


Willing Complication 04: First Frost (import from ff.net)

by moor



Category: Saiunkoku Monogatari
Genre: F/M, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 14:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Shuurei x Seiran. One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. Sequel to "Raking Leaves"





	1. Chapter 1

Title:  **Willing Complication 04: First Frost**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Romance/General  
Published: 01-19-10, Updated: 01-19-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 2,649

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

**TITLE:** First Frost  
 **AUTHOR:**   **beyondthemoor**  on LJ  
 **RATING:** Very light T  
 **GENRE:** Gen/Romance  
 **WARNINGS:** A bit OOC, sorry! And uninspired. But I'm forcing myself to write about different things, so this is just practice. Still needs some work...  
 **AU/CANON:**  Canon-ish, no set spot in timeline  
 **PAIRINGS:** Shuurei x Seiran  
 **WORD COUNT:** 2400 words (approx)  
 **SUMMARY:** One of the most telling changes of season is the first frost. Everyone needs to light the fires and pull their blankets tighter, snuggling into their warmth. And, when available, their bedfellows. (Follow-up to "Raking Leaves")  
 **NOTES:** Concrit is appreciated!

AN: I originally wrote this for the 'First Frost' prompt on the saiun_challenge LJ comm in 2009, but didn't get around to it. So here it is!

* * *

"First Frost"

The way she tied her hair back had barely changed from when she was a child, he notices as they put away the dishes from their breakfast meal. Her clothes are similar, too, and reminiscent of those her mother used to wear. But still… not exactly the same.

Underneath those flowing garments, the part that's inside her, he knows she's different, changed – and not just because she now wears his discarded clothes regularly to guard against the chill. He tells himself he isn't pleased to see her wearing his things.

Over the past few days, Seiran has found himself looking at his Ojou-sama more often, more intently than before. Quick glances stolen while they prepared meals together; a more thoughtful smile while he answers her questions before she turns back to her shopping, not realizing he is still watching her; their goodnights and good mornings lingering where before they were brief and simple.

Whatever it was about her, it captivated him, and he couldn't ignore the fascination for more than a few seconds before something about her would resurface in his mind, reeling him in again like a hungry fish on a lure.

And he wonders if it has anything to do with the last battle he was in, the one that took place just as he and the rest of the soldiers were returning to the capitol city's border, that's got him looking at her so. It wasn't that it was a difficult or brutal encounter, it didn't stand out in his mind for the fierceness of its combatants or the endurance it took to withstand a small barrage of arrows, but it had served as a reminder that he was mortal; that he could be felled just like any other; and that… his mother's line would end with him.

So many of his fellow soldiers had girlfriends, wives, children. They would live on beyond their time if something—heaven forbid—were to happen to them while on tour of duty.

But not him.

And while this had never concerned or bothered him before, in truth, he'd hardly thought of it, for some reason, now… now it did.

Watching Shuurei putter around (their) family kitchen, assisting her with maintaining (their) family home, shopping with her, doing all the things husbands normally did with their wives, and yet… he was not her husband, she was not his wife.

And trying to change that would mean acting selfishly.

He was never selfish.

Her happiness was all he worked for.

His own… his own happiness was found in hers, and in his brother's happiness and success.

For so long, he'd been so deliberate in ensuring he would have no children, no outstanding contribution to any society beyond his devotion to the Kou family; making sure that, if his background as Prince Seien were discovered, there would be nothing that could be used as leverage to place him back on the throne over his youngest brother; doing everything he could to protect and bolster his youngest sibling so he'd have every opportunity to succeed without feeling threatened or rushed. To give Ryuuki the time he needed to become his own person, become the Emperor he wanted to be, the man he wanted to be, without constantly looking over his shoulder or second-guessing himself wondering if he was about to be challenged for his position.

As Seiran had arrived within the gates upon his return to the city, his colleagues had been swarmed by family, laughing and cheering children, loving embraces from wives and sisters.

And he'd walked through it all on his way, unconcerned no one had come to welcome him.

Now, though, as he watched Shuurei finish rinsing the serving plate and hand it to him to dry and put away, he wonders if he could ask her to wait for him next time. Welcome him at the gates.

Embrace him with her warm, loving arms.

Deep in his thoughts, Seiran missed his Ojou-sama's curious looks that morning.

Little did he know, Shuurei had noticed his stares, had wanted to go welcome him home from the gates, and her hands occasionally trembled when she thought of clasping them around his trim waist and tucking her head into his shoulder.

When they parted to go their separate ways that day, she to bury herself in Kouchou-neesan's bookkeeping, he to a tavern nearby to assist with some repairs to the roof, each sighed for different and yet the same reasons.

* * *

 

The memories kept at him as he worked that day on the wind-blown roof, tearing off old cracked tiles and replacing them levelly with smooth new ones.

" _Seiran, what are you reading?"_ she'd asked him when she was still a very young child. She'd climbed up onto the warm kang in his room where he read by candle light, tucked herself into his lap with his arms around her, and proceeded to interrogate him on his story as if its plot were of the utmost importance to her, simply because he was the one reading it.

Several years later on another bitter wintry night, she'd fallen asleep against his side as she'd stitched her embroidery, again on the soporific comfort of the kang and under the blanket he'd wrapped around her shoulders.

A few years later still, she'd studied late into the night in his company on the raised sleeping platform, preparing for her next tutoring session while he brought in tea to share, never interrupting her with words, only showing support by refreshing her cup when she'd absently hold her shining porcelain teacup out. The tea had remained warm on the tiled surface of the kang, nestled within a make-shift cozy of tea towels on his blankets.

She'd never hesitated in his company because she'd always trusted him.

How could he risk that trust over something so selfish as asking for more than the companionship they currently shared? The companionship they both depended on.

That night, as it had the last several weeks, the darkness of night fell sooner and sooner than the previous day, and he packed up his tools and made his way to Kouchou's establishment to collect his Ojou-sama before returning home together.

* * *

By the time the pair arrived home, the temperature had dropped severely; and they found, upon entering their home, that Shouka-dono had not returned yet either.

"He was supposed to have come back this afternoon!" wailed Shuurei as she rushed forward to light the stove and heat the kitchen, while Seiran set about the lanterns. The chill in the air promised frost that night, and the house should not have sat cold through the full day; any water would freeze and cause cracking, and it would take hours to warm the rooms by fire…

"If Ojou-sama can manage the kitchen and meal, she can leave the outdoor chores to me," Seiran suggested. He hadn't taken off his outer clothes yet, and still needed to return his tools and such to their maintenance building. The water-well was that way, he'd make sure the bucket was pulled up out of the water in case it did freeze over that night. The few animals they kept would need to be brought into the small shed, and the baskets of vegetables would need to be collected from the storehouse and brought to the main kitchen to keep them from freezing… The mental list was already formulating as he accepted his Ojou-sama's nod and struck out for the rear courtyard.

* * *

Exhausted, Shuurei bent down over the stove in her room to light the fire that would warm the kang and her blankets.

Or she tried to – but found it was stuck fast.

"Come on," she grunted, planting her feet and yanking on the handle. It wouldn't budge. She put her hand to the side and nearly yelped when it came back frigidly cold. It was probably frozen shut from the condensation moisture caught inside due to the rain they'd had a day earlier.

Glaring at it balefully a moment longer, she released the stove handle and huffed up onto the kang to bury herself under her blankets.

She'd be fine for one night. It wasn't as if she'd freeze to death in her own room…

* * *

Seiran startled awake, his dominant arm already reaching for his sword as his eyes searched the dark room. By the time his hand closed around its scabbard, however, he had picked up on the pale face peeking through the doorway into his room.

"Seiran?" she called cautiously. She'd learned long ago not to sneak up on Seiran at night the way she used to as a child. Now she held her distance out of respect. He had never given her any indication she was unwelcome, never made any mention of bringing home… company…, never hinted he wanted privacy. But it was something she felt he was due, as any man was.

"Ojou-sama? What's wrong?"

She shuffled a bit, tucking her hands into her sleeves and rubbing her cold, red nose. "Do you have any more spare clothes or blankets?"

"I'll check; come warm up on the kang while I look," he said, pulling the covers back.

"Ah thank you so much!"

He barely heard her muffled appreciation as she zipped across the icy floor and burrowed down into his toasty blankets beside him. He had to wait a moment to smoothe his easy, amused grin before he lit the lamp. Some things hadn't changed much at all…

It didn't take him long to gather up a few spare blankets and thick trousers, including a woolen sleeping shift she could borrow for the night.

However, he hadn't anticipated her being so difficult to wake.

"Mmmm…" she mumbled, followed by drowsy ramblings when he touched her shoulder.

"Ojou-sama," he prodded her again, shaking her more roughly. "It's time to go back. Ojou-sama…"

"Kang's broken," she yawned, arching her back as she shifted under his blankets finally, reaching out for him to stay his hand. "Stayin' here… warm…" With that she settled again with a soft breath, clutching his sleeve to her cheek.

With a sigh, Seiran rocked back on his heels and looked at her, her dark hair tangled around her face, dimly limned from the candle lamplight. She took long, steady breaths, obviously more asleep than awake, and before he knew it he'd reached out a calloused, long-fingered hand to smoothe the hair away from her warm cheeks, smiling at her.

"I'll go sleep in your room, you rest here," he said finally, tucking the lock of hair behind her ear. She gave no indication she'd heard him, and slumbered on.

With a low bow over her and gentle tug he pulled his nightshirt from her grasp, steadying himself with a hand flat on the twisted sheet by her head, his face inches from hers, feeling her breath leave her and blow softly over him.

His eyes were drawn to her partially open mouth and the quiet breath that came and went.

Soundlessly he watched her, the dim light filtering past him to outline her profile, the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips.

The beautiful young woman in his bed still didn't stir when he slid away, to her room to sleep that night, after adoring her with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

* * *

"Seiran… Seiran… It's morning…"

It was Shuurei's turn to try and jostle her lethargic bed-warmer awake in the early light, and he rose slowly, bleary-eyed and confused when he couldn't remember immediately how he'd ended up in her bed instead of his own.

For her part, Shuurei couldn't help the emotion that tugged at the corners of her lips, pulled them to a smile at how adorable her family retainer looked with tousled hair and piles of quilts, both his and hers, and rumpled night shirt as he woke. In fact, she was tempted to crawl under the covers with him and tell him to go back to bed after a cuddle, he looked like he'd been having such a good sleep. But that wasn't something she could ask of him, or even bully him into no matter how devoted he was to her family – in fact, it was exactly why he probably wouldn't comply. Sometimes she missed how close she'd been able to get to him when she was a young girl.

"Did Ojou-sama sleep well?" he mumbled as he rubbed at one of his eyes, squinting at her a bit from the other and then lost a battle with a yawn.

To Shuurei, it was one of the cutest, most child-like things she'd ever seen Seiran do in her presence. And she had to snap her jaw shut tightly to keep from babbling out an embarrassingly girlish, "Aww!" that would no doubt send him straight into a sour mood. Seiran had always been touchy about seeming 'cute', or even worse, 'pretty'.

So she simply nodded and hummed an affirmative noise in her throat, and held out a hand to help him up (which he ignored and instead stood on his own beside her).

"It wasn't too cold for you in here?"

Smiling down at her, Seiran, still very relaxed, shook his head. "Ojou-sama's room was more than comfortable," he said, and just to throw her off guard as he walked away, he patted her still bed-mussed hair in a reassuring fashion, much to her displeasure.

"Seiran!"

As his Ojou-sama stood in the middle of her room grumbling at him and fixing her hair, Seiran chuckled and pulled his hair back from his face with a large hand. "I'll go start the stove for breakfast and draw some water," he called. "If Ojou-sama needs my extra blankets, I'll leave them here until we improve your sleeping arrangements."

"What arrangements would those be?" asked a smiling Shouka as Seiran stepped into the hallway. He hadn't made a sound, and Seiran's eyes flew open in surprise at seeing Shuurei's overprotective father, absent so long at the clan's stronghold, present and alert and very, very focused on Seiran as he stepped from his Ojou-sama's bedroom first thing in the morning making pleasantries about her night accommodations.

Except contrary to his usual bland expression, the ex-assassin's eyes were open and watching Seiran very carefully for any hint of a possible transgression against his daughter.

The first frost of the season, which Seiran had assumed he'd escaped, bled through all too clearly in his master's eyes and sent shivers down the young man's spine.

* * *

Posted 19 January, 2010. END.


	2. Affection & Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ensei x Shuurei x Seiran friendship-love Bro-mance and romance and adoration. Sometimes, a bit of jealousy, too. Written for the 'Adored' prompt on the saiun challenge LJ comm.

Title:  **Willing Complication 05: Affection & Guilt**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+  
Genre: Romance/Friendship  
Published: 04-26-10, Updated: 04-26-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 2,698

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

[Week 69] [Word Count 400+ words] [Theme: Adored]

Title: Affection and guilt  
Author: beyondthemoor on LJ  
Pairing: Ensei x Shuurei x Seiran (friendship-love)  
Fandom: SaiMono  
Canon or AU: Canon  
Word count: (approx. 2,400 words…)  
Genre: angst/friendship-romance-bromance  
Disclaimer: I do not own SaiMono! (Just some DVDs, art-books, manga. Maybe an altar…)  
Summary: Bro-mance and romance and adoration. Sometimes, a bit of jealousy, too. Ensei x Shuurei x Seiran (friendship-love)  
Prompt: Adored

AN: Rough, I apologise. I shifted POV so many times I think I confused myself! ;) This is pure fanservice. Written for the 'Adored' prompt on the saiun_challenge LJ comm. (Come check it out!)

* * *

It was when Ensei grabbed them both around the shoulders, that morning in the market, that Seiran realized the shift had occurred; that instead of screaming and hitting and trying to shake him off, Shuurei laughed and leaned into the embrace and teased right back; that Ensei's rakish grin softened and the lines around his eyes eased into something akin to adoration; and the usual irritation Seiran felt at his friend's presence instead changed to surprise, then suspicion, and finally wounded understanding.

And when he'd finally disentangled himself from his loud associate's wandering hands, and he'd told him off for assaulting his Ojou-sama in public, Ensei had had the gall, the sheer gall, to taunt him.

"I would apologise for making you jealous, but 'jou-chan doesn't belong to you!"

The careless words had stung with truth more than he'd ever admit.

* * *

As Seiran went about his chores that afternoon, his thoughts kept circling back to Ensei's jab.

_He wasn't jealous of 'every man' who came into his Ojou-sama's life. Plenty of men had shown interest in her._

_Even close friends._

The soldier's movements stayed a moment, his gait slowing, before he refocused and moved on again.

His eyes narrowed in quiet reflection as he remembered the camaraderie they'd all shared that morning in the market as they did their shopping.

_Plenty…_

A low exhale left his lips as he found himself getting worked up, and he forced a calming pace upon his increased heart rate.  _Plenty, but never before had she reciprocated._

_Until…_

It was when she looked up happily into another's eyes, her expression bright and expectant, her mouth slightly open, her laughter free, her arms sneaking out to curl through another's elbow, that he'd become unsettled.

And yet all the while during their outing, he'd felt her eyes doting and checking on him. Sometimes she'd been looking back at him for reassurance, to make sure he was close by, to know he was there in case she needed him. But not as often as usual. Not that morning. There was something different. Something in the routine had changed.

Seiran knew she adored him; she'd told him that he was her second favourite person in the world (and second to her father at that—a position that no man could ever challenge).

It was who  _else_  she adored, too, whose embrace she returned, that he became wary and jealous of. Because it was becoming clearer that she cared for more than one person in her sphere; as did he.

… and having a third in a relationship like theirs would arouse even further complications.

The banished prince could never overcome the limits of his position of retainer with regards to his Ojou-sama. For so long it had protected them and provided him with almost everything he'd ever wanted. Almost.

He had no claim to her to defend, and knew he was in no position to request one; he also recognized that she protected the unspoken bond between them all, and he felt guilty he could do no more for her.

Especially while another potentially could.

And he had no right to restrict either of their movements.

Another who had been his comrade in arms, another he almost saw as a brother of sorts, another who, he knew, could make her truly happy and who would be happy with her for the rest of their lives. Another he'd also, though he'd never admit it, be able to trust her to, to trust his own life to, because he knew it would be treasured and forever protected. He couldn't ask that other person not to care for the person he felt affection for, anymore than he could stop adoring her himself. He adored them both.

Within his chest, Seiran felt the curse of affection and guilt… because a part of him did want to ask the other to back off, to go away, to not be the person he was. Even if it deprived them all.

Because they adored each other, all three of them. As Ensei had said, it was obvious; as obvious to Ensei as it was to Seiran.

Because he adored them both; and she adored them both; and it was hard to tell sometimes where adoration left off, and love began.

Because, unlike love, adoring and being adored were safe…

…In a manner of speaking.

* * *

"It's because you're learning to share," wheedled Ensei under his breath, not-so-secretly enjoying his friend's discomfort. "Stop sulking like a child."

As he had been doing all day, Seiran ignored him; however, his patience was wearing thin at the other man's ribbing. If only Ojou-sama wasn't in just the next room over, he could…

"It wasn't a true confession; don't get your nose out of joint."

The large metal pot Seiran had been holding banged down heavily on the stove, and he felt his shoulders tensing as Ensei sidled closer, drying another pan, and leaned in.

"…Though it was nice."

Soft-spoken as they were, the words shot through Seiran's already jealousy-ridden composure and struck him full on.

Whirling, the silver-haired man grabbed Ensei's shirt-front in his fist and jerked him forward to glare at him, nose to nose, eye to glowing red eye.

"How dare you have her-," his furious words were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Seiran? Ensei? If one of you is free, could you please come help me for a minute?"

Turning to straighten up automatically and answer the young woman's summons, Ensei's confident grin faltered as his stomach received a rather vicious elbow, courtesy of a politely smiling Kou family retainer.  
"Coming, Ojou-sama…"

Doubled over with one hand on the side of the stove to keep himself up, the shaggy-haired guest winced and curled his other arm around his middle protectively, albeit belatedly. He couldn't help it, though, when he smirked & muttered, "Royal brat never did learn to play well with others, did he? Especially not when it came to sharing." With a grunt, he pulled himself back up to standing again and went back to drying off the remaining dishes. "Or sharing his favourite person's attention, I should say…"

* * *

With a quick heave, Seiran tightened up the spare futon frame and Shuurei flopped the mattress down on top of it.

With a satisfied huff, she smiled at her almost-brother, almost-more in thanks.

"There! Everyone's was aired out today, so we should all sleep well tonight. Now, the sheets should still be over here. I can handle the rest myself, thank you, Seiran."

"All right, I'll head back to my own room, then-."

Near-silent footsteps heralded a new arrival, and Seiran felt his hackles rise all over again.

"Ah! How is our 'jou-chan? Already set me up for the night, I see. Well, that deserves a peck on the cheek— _Oof_!"

"Seiran!"

"Forgive me, Ojou-sama, I tripped on the futon."

Shooting a mildly reproachful glare at the normally peaceful man, Shuurei's attention flickered back to Ensei as she pulled him down and cradled his now-bruised head in her hands. Her fingers gently prodded through his scruffy hair to knead the lumps around his ears. "Really, the two of you… Do you need any ointment for this bruise, Ensei? It looks pretty sore. Seiran, could you go get the-."  
"The freeloader can get it himself."

Eyebrow now twitching, Shuurei caught herself before snapping an order at him.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened this morning?" she demanded rather bluntly, releasing a hand from Ensei's head… and not realizing she'd grabbed one of his ears in its place.

Now caught, literally, bent over in the middle of a brewing argument, the normally sly man cast a quick look at the door and tried to wiggle free of his captor. With no success.

"Ojou-sama has no need to worry about-."

"I can tell when you're trying to distract me, Seiran."

His mouth hanging open, the man's silver brows furrowed a moment as he struggled to counter her remark without actually starting an argument or insulting either of them (he did not hold the same concern about insulting Ensei). He was completely taken aback, as was Ensei going by the man's shocked expression, at her words. Never had Shuurei ever chastised him in front of another.

"Perhaps I should leave to go get-," Ensei's subtle suggestion (a plea for mercy in disguise) was interrupted by a wince as Shuurei shook him to quiet him.

"Nonsense! Seiran was just about to apologise to you."

She looked at the afore-mentioned man expectantly.

"Weren't you?"

The silence was broken only by a muffled, crunching noise.

"Perhaps he'd like to apologise to me privately?" suggested Ensei jovially, recognizing the sound of Seiran grinding his teeth and trying not to laugh out loud.

With a quick, disbelieving glance that took in both men, the young woman considered a moment, and then acquiesced with a curt nod.

"Fine." She eyed them both another moment, clearly not trusting them and their fabricated 'truce'. "But if I see a single bruise on either of you, I have a list a  _li_  long of chores that need to be seen to, and you'll both be volunteering."

She walked to the door, and glared back one last time as she slid the door shut.

"Play nice."

* * *

_(less than a second later)_

The men ignored her huff of frustration as the sound of a freshly made futon went crashing, collapsing under their weight as one launched himself at the other to beat the ever-loving tar out of him, and the other, expecting it, laughed and dodged.

* * *

"She didn't need your help taking off her shoes!" growled Seiran, shoving Ensei's scarred face into the overturned futon.

"She wouldn't let me take the groceries!"

"Then why did you—from behind—how could you—your arms-."

"I just hugged her! I hugged you, too! At the same time!"

A very pronounced thump resonated as Seiran slammed the speaker to the ground, growling, "I know that!"

"Jealous?..." teased Ensei with a suggestive smirk. "Never fear, you'll always have a special place in my— _oof_!"

"Hands off Ojou-sama." A quick twist of a dark-tanned arm emphasized the point of the argument.

"Seiran— _urk_ -, my oldest friend, have we truly parted ways? Or are you just attempting a trial separation? Perhaps, of my arm from my torso— _argh_."

Ensei slid out from under the silver-haired man's weight and, with a quick roll, was back on his feet, arms crossed as he smiled happily at his former comrade-in-arms.

"To think it happened over a woman, no less…"

"You're putting words in her mouth and taking them more seriously than she meant."

"You mean when I asked if she loved me or adored me?"

Seiran lunged again, this time catching Ensei around his middle and throwing him against a wall. Panting angrily, Seiran glared openly at his long-time friend and rival through his disheveled hair, holding a no-longer-hidden dagger to the man's throat. His normally smooth voice lowered a notch, and his face bit by bit became cold, then expressionless.

A line had been crossed.

"This situation is not a game, Ensei."

Without a word, the dagger was hidden again.

"Ojou-sama is not a toy."

* * *

" _You mean when I asked if she loved me or adored me?"_

It was the wrong thing to say.

Ensei knew it the moment it slipped out of his mouth, but there was no taking it back; he could only hope to make amends and minimize bruising, at this point. It had been a long time since he'd seen his closest friend so… emotionally expressive… and so deeply hurt, at the same time. Mentally chastising himself for not having realized how seriously his oldest acquaintance had taken his earlier remarks, Ensei resigned himself to mending the bridge of their friendship—but at the same time, he refused to let go of his goal. Neither could ask that of the other.

It had finally happened; they'd reached an impasse between them that would take a great deal to overcome. He knew Seiran was right in a way, though, he should never have spoken so flippantly about Shuurei, or her affections. It implied a lack of respect he did not feel.

He almost wanted to laugh that he and Seiran still shared so much in common, but he didn't feel that humour would go over very well at that precise moment in time.

Shoulders slumping slightly, the darker-haired man let a sigh slip through his teeth, and knew Seiran hadn't missed a moment of his internal deliberation.

It was so like the banished prince, to focus on the little details and miss the big picture.

"You know she adores you right back, don't you?" he said quietly, in case 'she' may overhear the conversation. "You're a very lucky man, to have someone so wonderful so devoted to you. I'm jealous."

A hint of the winter-cold ice in Seiran's eyes thawed at the unexpected admission.

"Seiran, think for a moment. You have a home now, a proper one where you're cared for; you have a family; you have a steadfast reputation; and you care for it all, too. You're devoted to her as she is to you. You adore her. It's obvious. I bet sometimes you even tuck her in to bed at night, kiss her on the forehead, and-."

"Enough."

"—and wish her well, walk her to work, encourage her when she has to stay late-."

"I said, enough," Seiran released the man from his hold, turning away from him slightly to walk towards the door, pretending to ignore the words though each one hit home.

"—and I bet you let her embrace you from behind and pretend you don't expect and love it, let her lean on you, let her do little things to help you around this house, too. I think the two of you adore each other, and I think-."

"I said, enough."

Ensei stilled, watching Seiran's slightly stooped back, his closed expression.

"I apologise," said Seiran quietly, not turning around. "Don't ever do that again, Ensei."

"You, either."

Seiran looked back at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"You're too obvious," clarified Ensei. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned casually against the wall that had caged him a moment earlier. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed that the connection between the two of you is more than that of family or simple friends. You can't let yourself be jealous of every man who comes into her life. Just sayin'," he put his hands up in a gesture of defeat.

There was a pause, as each man reflected on the double meaning behind the words.

The simple reply of, "I don't," ended the conversation, as the door slid open and shut between them.

* * *

THE END

Thanks for reading! Concrit welcome.


	3. The Importance of Pulling Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willing Complication 06: The Importance of Pulling Out: A very short series of one-shots dealing with the importance of pulling out, and the consequences when you don't. For Seiran. And Kouyuu. And Shuurei. Oh dear...

Title:  **Willing Complication 06: The Importance of Pulling**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Humor/General  
Published: 06-22-10, Updated: 06-22-10  
Chapters: 2, Words: 1,203

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

[Week 62] [Word Count: 250+] [Theme: Oops]

Title: The importance of pulling out

Author: beyondthemoor

Genre: humour

Word Count: approx. 300 words

Rating: T for misleading sexual connotations...

Characters: Seiran, Ensei

AU/Cannon: Cannon

Theme: Oops

Disclaimer: I do not own SaiMono.

AN: This was originally posted to the saiun_challenge LJ comm…. and I became too busy to finish the rest. I'm crossing my fingers now to finish Part III by… um… the end of the summer. XD

* * *

The night was quiet as the two men shared a private drink.

One drinking decidedly more than the other.

Ensei looked over at his long-time friend and laid a consoling arm around his shoulders, raising his tankard in support.

"Come on, Seiran. I'm sure 'jou-chan will forgive you…. someday!"

His mocking laughter rather contradicted his compassion.

The morose man's bucket-covered head rose an inch or so from the tabletop where it had rested for the better part of that evening; Ensei reached over and gently lifted the lip of the bucket up to peer at Seiran's downcast – and rather gray – face.

"I really don't think she'll mind," assured the scarred-faced man as he held the silver-haired man's gaze, more seriously this time, and gave Seiran a quick squeeze of support. "It isn't the first time – and if you're as lucky as in the past, no one will know and there'll be no consequences to worry about, either."

Seiran's bleary, though still faintly murderous, look settled on his friend's face, but only for a moment before his head thudded back to the table with a slurred,

"… she said… didn't hear her… not this time… so dead…"

Then his shoulders slumped and his soft snores echoed from inside the pail.

Resting his head on his fist as he regarded the former prince, renowned for his selflessness towards his foster-family, Ensei smiled softly and thought over the situation.

"You never know," he said more to himself than the passed-out man beside him, "she may not mind as much as she says…"

Because hadn't 'jou-chan always said she wanted to keep things the way they were? To stay with her father, Seiran by her side?

Ah, right. Shouka-sama.

Ensei sobered slightly.

"But you know, if you really need to run, make sure you don't come anywhere near me. I'll support you from a distance, though, my friend!"

And he raised his cup again.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

[January 2010] [Word Count: Free!] [Theme: "It isn't what it looks like!"]

Title: The importance of pulling out, pt. 2

Author: beyondthemoor

Genre: humour

Word Count: approx. doesn't-matter-because-it's-a-free-count! :D

Rating: T for misleading sexual connotations...

Characters: Seiran, Ensei, Shuurei, Kouchou, Shuuei, Kouyuu

AU/Cannon: Cannon-ish

Theme: "It isn't what it looks like!"

AN: Many thank you's to Majochan for letting me borrow her visual plot-bunny. (Her SaiMono gallery is full of Way Too Much inspiration!)

* * *

Seiran tried to pretend he didn't feel his spine stiffen reactively with a latent self-preservation instinct whenever Master passed through the kitchen that evening.

And failed.

When he brought in some dried wood from the shed to keep by the stove and the bed-kangs, leaving a deposit beside Shuurei's in her room, he felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle in alarm.

And as he said goodnight to her on his way to his own room (she was still miffed and would have ignored him, but sighed and muttered a begrudging 'sleep well' back), he didn't fail to notice the way Master Shouka's eyes followed his every move, waiting to hear his door slide shut with a soft clack.

For the first time since he'd been taken into the Kou residence as their retainer, the young man felt concern for his well-being.

And it was all because he'd forgotten to pull out…

"… forgot to pull me out of that stupid competition at Kouchou-neesan's!" exclaimed Shuurei angrily.

"Which competition?" Kouyuu asked, about to take a bite of manjuu.

"The one she holds every year?" surmised Shuei, sneaking around behind the younger advisor and nipping a bite of the pastry from the other man's hands.

(Kouyuu blustered angrily and snatched it away, loudly cursing the sword-master who seemed to delight in teasing him. The dark-haired man only smirked in response.)

"Oy! What competition!"

"The Kougarou Idol competition," she sighed in resignation, drawing another bun from her bento to throw half-heartedly at Shuei to curtail the escalating antagonism. "It's open to all the employees, not just the, er, customer service representatives, so it is fair game. It's a talent show, and the winner's portrait is printed on all the promotional materials that circulate."

"It brings in a lot of business for that particular individual, and for the Kougarou as well," added Shuei, thinking aloud.

"And Seiran forgot to pull your name out of the running?"

Her baleful glare was all the answer Kouyuu needed.

"He's been looking a little under the weather lately, maybe he's had something else on his mind?"

"No, that's just because my father found out and isn't taking it well that his daughter could end up as the poster girl for the Red Light District."

Kouyuu and Shuei looked at each other knowingly over her head.

"… I'm sure it'll work itself out," assured Shuei, picking up another bun and gazing it over thoughtfully.

-until Kouyuu smacked it out of his hand and railed, "Stop looking at the manjuu like it's something naughty!"

"Jealous? Would you rather I looked at you? Pictured you dressed up for a night with Madam Kouchou?"

Shuurei sighed in resignation as Kouyuu went purple in his retaliatory ranting.

… but it did give the men something to think about…

That evening, Kouyuu met Seiran just inside a palace gate, and together they came up with a plan.

* * *

Kouchou looked the pair of stoic men over with a dispassionate eye.

"No."

Seiran persisted.

"It was my mistake, please excuse her."

"Please think of her reputation! If she has to force herself to play or behave badly in order to fail the competition, she'll never be hired again as a musician; if she plays well, she will win and never be hired again by a respectable employer-."

The powerful woman glared at Kouyuu meaningfully.

"… Er, another institution may find her… previous commitments… not a very fitting preparation… to her formal abilities…"

Painted lips pursed, elegant eyes narrowed.

Seiran resisted the urge to elbow the blundering administrator in the gut. Just.

"We will do whatever it takes to correct this misunderstanding," he pleaded, bowing his head to the Leader of the Kiyou underworld.

His companion looked at him in surprise a moment, but awkwardly followed suit.

Arms crossed under her ample bosom, a perfectly shaped brow arched.

"Anything?"

A pause.

The woman turned away, preparing to leave.

"A-Anything-!"

With her back to them, they missed the faintest sparkle in her eyes.


	4. He Should Never Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuurei x Seiran. He would never trust his Ojou-sama's 'good intentions' again. Originally written for the saiun challenge Week 74 prompt, "Awakening"…

Title:  **Willing Complication 07: He Should Never Have**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K  
Genre: Romance/Family  
Published: 04-11-10, Updated: 04-11-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 957

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

**[Week 74] [Word count: 800-ish] [Prompt: Awakening]**

**TITLE:**  He should never have…  
 **AUTHOR:**  beyondthemoor on LJ  
 **RATING:**  E for everyone…  
 **GENRE:**  romance, fluff  
 **WARNINGS:**  - fanserve-ee? Cliché? XD  
 **AU/CANON:**  Canon  
 **CHARACTERS:**  Shuurei, Seiran  
 **WORD COUNT:**  Approx. 800 words...ish (I'm about 200-300 over the challenge limit. Again. Word-count fail = me!)  
 **SUMMARY:**  He would never trust his Ojou-sama's 'good intentions' again. (Originally written for the saiun_challenge Week 74 prompt, "Awakening"… but since I fail at the notion of word-counts, I thought I'd post it to the saiunkoku_fic comm instead. ;) I finally remembered to post it to this site, too!)  
 **PROMPT:** Awakening

* * *

_He should never have:_

Rolling his shoulder as much as he dared, Seiran stared determinedly ahead.

He should never have let Ojou-sama convince him they needed to clear the far-rear courtyard on such a sweltering, humid day, the garden they rarely visited, let alone used. When had they last used it, he wondered vaguely; was it years ago? When her mother had still been with them? When Ojou-sama had been knee-high to a grasshopper? He blinked at the memories before discarding the concern. He had bigger problems.

(in… out… in… out…)

No, he continued the internal chastisement. He should never have let Ojou-sama assure him, later when they'd been puffing from exhaustion after dragging a particularly stubborn tree stump away from a wall that had collapsed under its weight, that sure there was time to run into the market district to grab more groceries. They didn't need groceries-they had plenty of food in the house. He could have picked a few extra vegetables from the almost-far-rear garden they had passed through on their way back from-

His brow knit in consternation. No, that wasn't the real issue, either.

(in… out… in… out…)

Taking a shallow breath, he focused again.

No, he needed to strengthen his resolve if he would persevere in this awkward situation.

He never should have let his Ojou-sama cajole him into leaving 'the rest of the dishes' to her to do while he 'rested' because he looked tired.

He would never, ever leave her alone again, he decided with such conviction he felt his jaw clench, ever so slightly.  
(in… out…)

Relaxing his teeth and breathing lightly, he closed his eyes a moment again, and licked his now-dry lips.

It had been hours since he'd had a drink of water. His marine-coloured eyes fixed on a small-well, perhaps more than small, perhaps rather large, if he was being honest-crack in the wall across from him. He would repair that crack as soon as he could.

When he got up.

A tiny puff of breath on his earlobe sent another almost imperceptible shiver down his spine. Rhythmically, in and out, the breathing continued. Softly, just enough to stir the faintest of hair that slipped from the loose topknot he tied each morning when he woke.

Oh, he was going to fix everything...

(another small breath against his sensitive skin, another minute tightening in his chest, his throat, his lower body)

... later.

No, he would never trust his Ojou-sama again: not after she'd apparently decided that since he had chosen to nod off, sitting on the worn stone kitchen floor and leaning against the wall that faced her while she worked, watching her as his eyes drooped shut, that she would oh so casually do the same...

... right alongside him... once she'd finished her chores.

No, he would never forgive her for this.

Not for the way she'd slumped into his tired, sore shoulder. Even if he would always welcome her by his side.

Not for the way her pale, slender arm had crossed over his middle in her slumber. Like she wanted to hold him in her embrace.

Not for the way she smelled, despite all the hard work, still like the wonderful, perfect woman she was. Because to him, she was everything.

Least of all for the way she made him feel.

Thanking the stars that her father was away until late evening at the archives, Seiran let his tousled head fall quietly back against the wall behind him (again). He had to escape that breathing, that almost intangible expression of trust that taunted him.

His Ojou-sama would wake sooner or later.

He glanced down at her sleep-pinked features, her slightly open mouth, the way her eyelashes cast midnight-black crescents on her delicate cheeks.

Shifting minutely to try and make his backside more comfortable, Seiran swallowed a yawn and ever so slowly reached a strong hand that had somehow settled around Shuurei protectively, up to sweep a few dark, loosened locks of hair away from her face.

The tickling against her skin rousing her slightly, the petite young woman's eyelashes fluttered a moment with her quick intake of breath-stilling Seiran's movement-before she settled against him again more snugly with a breathy, content sigh. Her hand now lay over his heart.

No, Seiran decided again as he brought her closer, closer, close enough to reach his other arm under her legs to slide her across his lap so she lay more comfortably, for both of them.

No, he would never trust her again.

... when she awoke.

But until then...

(he felt the small, content smile that only graced his features in her presence steal across his expression, the softening of the tension in his entire body that always followed)

... until then, this wasn't entirely unpleasant.

 

* * *

**R &R?**

 

(ALSO, as with all my FANFICS, I do not own this series and make no profit from this.)


	5. Peach Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seiran x Shuurei. Peach Books. Written for nikolita's birthday, August 2010

Title:  **Willing Complication 08: Peach Books**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Humor/Romance  
Published: 08-14-10, Updated: 08-14-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 1,702

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

Title: Peach Books  
Author: beyondthemoor on LJ  
Length: approx. 1,400 words  
Genre: Humour, romance  
Rating: T for implied themes  
Summary/Prompt: Seiran x Shuurei, 'Peach Books'. (Written for nikolita's birthday-happy belated b-day!)

* * *

Had she been looking for them again?

Hadn't they had this discussion?

With a sigh, Seiran felt his shoulders slump as he looked around his neat-as-a-pin room –  _overly_  neat-as-a-pin, as if someone had rummaged through it looking for something and had cleaned up after themselves to try and hide the fact they'd been snooping.

Crossing his arms, he surveyed his bed, closet, and few belongings one last time.

Then a slow smirk began on his lips, and he came to a decision.

With that, he turned and made his way to the Kougarou to speak to a particularly resourceful mistress.

His violet eyes glinted in anticipation.

* * *

" _If her father asks, I know nothing."_

The pleasantly intoned disclaimer played through his head again as he shifted the pack on his back, the purchases inside rustling softly.

Of course she would deny all association. Anyone with any sense would. In a way, what he intended to do could land him on the wrong end of a certain over-protective assassin's sword, should he come to find out about it.  
But the thought of how his intended would react…

Internally, he couldn't quite bring himself to surrender his amusement to his fear.

The crowds around him were completely ignorant of his inner musings as he passed through them, which was probably just as well. They'd probably stumble backwards in shock to hear some of his plans, and who they were for.

As he rounded a corner, he nodded at the usual merchants he passed, before his eyes settled on his prey a few stalls ahead.

It was the first time his eyes had ever gleamed red upon sight of his Shuurei.

* * *

As the young woman felt a familiar presence behind her, she turned to spy the happy-crescent eyes of her…

Her stomach bottomed out as she took in Seiran's placid expression-.

_Uummmm…_

-The utterly sadistic twinkle in his eyes.

_Uh oh._

Her insides coiled faintly in anxiety as he approached her casually.

Oh, those eyes eerily resembled his  _I'm-aware-you're-hiding-something-and-I'm-going-to-enjoy-finding-out-what_  eyes, and she was in trouble.

Shakily, she took a quick breath and raised a hand to wave. Perhaps he'd overlook her little intrusion into his room? Let her pretend nothing had happened, that she hadn't snuck into his private area in the house, and that her guilty shame was punishment enough?

And there was of course a chance he didn't know she'd been in his room. Perhaps she was completely over-reacting? Of course she was. Seiran would never seek her out to enact vengeance! She was perfectly fine, perfectly innocent, perfectly safe. She hadn't done anything in the first place… outside of looking…without his permission… or knowledge…

As long as she didn't act guilty, there was no proof or reason to suspect her of anything.

Right?

Spirits provisionally, if superficially, restored, Shuurei turned to smile at her companion.

"H-h-hi Seiran."

Because nothing said 'innocent' like a stuttered greeting.

"Fancy meeting you here, in the market…ahahahahaha…"

The tall man at her side nodded just as innocently at her.

Her insides wound tighter at his nod.

_She was doomed._

"Good evening, My Lady," he smiled.

Shuurei felt her hope deflate like a caravan tent.

_So very, very doomed.  
_

* * *

_Why was her father never around when she needed him?_

Shuurei fumed as she sat in mortified silence at the desk in Seiran's rooms. He'd inherited a slightly larger room, with a more private entrance and several smaller rooms leading off from it, several years earlier when the outer wall of his previous quarters had fallen down, literally, at the seams. It was a nice upgrade, though it meant he now slept further from the main house (and thus, further from herself and her father). It ensured him far greater privacy. In fact, there were times she hadn't even realized Ensei had been visiting until he'd popped up at their breakfast table with a crazy story about how drunk he'd managed to get Seiran the night before.

This was where he'd asked her to wait for him.

Or, rather, ordered her to wait.

So, left to her own devices and defense, she stewed in her seat and waited for Seiran to return from the kitchen.

Which he did, with a tray of drinks and fruit, and that rucksack still under his arm.

Her eyes narrowed as he entered; she didn't trust the pleasant atmosphere he was aiming at that afternoon. Not one bit. (Then again, she didn't exactly deserve such nice treatment, either. Her guilt gnawed at her insides uncomfortably.)

She trusted him even less when he set the tray down, turned back to close and lock the door behind him.

Because now she felt caged.

But it didn't take the older man long to make her feel even more ill-at-ease.

"A gift."

Oh yes, this was cruel. Cruel in ways only Seiran knew how to be.

Now she felt like a complete heel for sneaking into his room earlier. And he'd gotten her something? Taken completely by surprise, Shuurei couldn't speak for a moment.

"…A gift?"

He held out the bag to her.

Once accepted, hesitantly, Shuurei pulled her eyes away from his—still in their happy crescents—and peeked inside.

"Which one?" she noted several packages wrapped up within the travelling bag.

"Whichever one you wish to start with."

Wariness crept into her gut at his casual, warm tone, but she tried to suppress it.

Well, wariness and something more. His deep voice had been doing things to her insides for a good long time, and he knew it.

She waited, hesitantly reaching her arm out as she kept her eyes on his. It was no use trying to dodge or evade him at this point, she'd already worn herself out with made-up excuses about needing to go to work or clean random, unused rooms in the sprawling residence. He wasn't having any of it.

Now that he had her where he wanted her, she just needed to find out what he wanted.

"Shall I pull them out so you can see them better?"

She nodded, and he set each wrapped package on the table in front of her.

Each was about the same size, and rather square or rectangular in shape.

Her dark brows knit together in confusion.

"They're all the same?"

"From the outside."

Her eyes narrowed at his familiar smile.

Damn him.

He was teasing her.

Irritated now, she made a grab for the closest book, but he grabbed her wrist, leaning over her until she could feel the body heat radiating softly from him.

"What is it?" she asked in exasperation – hadn't he baited her with these items for the past hour?

"Be careful what you wish for," he murmured close to her ear.

She glared at him openly as she snatched the closest package and started unwrapping it.

And promptly coloured red.

"Is this what you were looking for earlier?" he asked silkily.

Her lips sealed tightly together, she felt her flush deepen as he continued to watch her. His long, work-roughened fingers gently slipped a loose bit of hair behind her ear.

"I have it on good authority that this particular volume is very popular with women."

"Er, that's… Ummm…"

Seiran slid behind her, still leaning over so his chest pressed against her back. He felt as much as heard her small gasp, and allowed himself a small smile of triumph.

Reaching around her, he opened the book in her lap and flipped through the pages until he found a particular scene Kouchou had mentioned to him earlier that day. It was illustrated, with a detailed, flowery description of the intimate encounter pictured beside it.

"Ahhh, so that's why this book was such a best-seller… Can you see, Ojou-sama? The way their limbs are-."

"I'm sorry! I'll never snoop again!"

It was so cute, the way she ducked her head and scrunched her eyes shut, he decided as Shuurei hunched in on herself, her shoulders rising in anxiety.

He chuckled lightly before taking a faint breath of her hair, and closing the book in order to hold her in an embrace.

"The next time you want to see them, just ask," he whispered against her ear, and felt her stiffen in surprise.

"But I, that is, they aren't for…"

He kissed her temple.

"Or better yet, come see me and we'll read them together."

With that he slowly let go of her and walked back to unlock and open his door.

He felt her eyes on his back the entire way.

" _Those_  books are yours to keep, Ojou-sama."

"But these are-."

"Perhaps I'll sneak into your room next time to read them?"

Shuurei made an indignant sound, which made him smile. There it was again, that shocked, embarrassed reaction to his indecent proposal. Yet he knew she loved it, and was already anticipating his next visit.

"Well, maybe you should!" she shot back, her cheeks red as her robes.

He laughed at her as he walked back down the hallway to finish his chores.

By the time he went to bed that night, the Peach Books had vanished from his room, and he had no doubt were hidden under Shuurei's bed.

* * *

AN: Yes, this is basically every "Naruto" Kakashi x Sakura,  _Icha-Icha_  –themed fic, but now based in the SaiMono-verse with Peach Books. Ahh, fandom/wicked interpretation, you never-ending source of amusement and fanservice inspiration. Happy B-day, nikolita! (I know you asked for a sequel... we'll see what kind of free time I can eek out...)

Posted 14 Aug/2010.

/mm


	6. Love Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuurei x Seiran. Written for the April 2010 saiun challenge comm prompt, "Love Song". PWP, lemon. Seiran hates Ensei, but he is occasionally useful. Especially in his absence…

Title:  **Willing Complication 09: Love Song**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M  
Genre: Romance/General  
Published: 05-11-10, Updated: 05-11-10  
Chapters: 1, Words: 1,435

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

**Title:** Love Song **  
Author:** beyondthemoor on LJ **  
Genre:** PWP/lemon **  
Rating:** M **  
Pairing:** Shuurei x Seiran **  
Warnings:** Lemon/smut, fanservice **  
AU/Canon:**  Canon **  
Words:**  Approx. 1,300 **  
Prompt:**  Love Song  
 **Summary:**  Shuurei x Seiran. Written for the April 2010 saiun_challenge comm prompt, "Love Song". PWP, Seiran hates Ensei, but he is occasionally useful. Especially in his absence…

Disclaimer: I do not own SaiMono!

* * *

Slow, careful, practiced movements.

Slower, slower…

The muscles of his back, legs, and abdomen flexed with each satisfying action.

Repeat.

Slow, careful, practiced movements.

He had to hold out; it would be the end of him if he were to give in now.

The rustle of loose, light fabric, the breeze through the open window.

A single drop of sweat beaded at the top of his spine, and made its way achingly slowly to his sensitive, exposed tailbone.

Seiran felt them all cross his slightly damp skin, heard their familiar, comforting sounds, like music, but refused to be distracted from his meditation. It was something he'd taken to doing more and more often, lately, to help him with his self-control since Ensei had decided to stay with them on a semi-permanent basis at the Kou residence. He'd tried to persuade the imposing 'guest' to leave for greener pastures, had 'accidentally' locked him out on a number of occasions, and had full-out thrown him over the wall at least twice. Yet the scruffy 'frenemy' always returned, like a boomerang. A loud, obnoxious boomerang.

Feeling his neck tiring, Seiran gently let his head drop, not missing the soft murmur of pleasure it brought to release at least that small tension.

Yes, Ensei was indeed a distraction.

He was also, in Seiran's humble opinion (not that he was biased), a nuisance. Always barging in and annoying him, even worse, taking up his Ojou-sama's precious free time with ridiculous offers of entertainment & amusement. And support. Well, she didn't need support, and if she did, she could get it from  _him_ , not Ensei. It was just a way to separate her from him, Seiran was sure of it. To annoy him further.

Speaking of support…

Slow, careful, practiced movements…

There was a tension in his shoulders, suddenly, and pressure against his chest and lower body; Seiran took the opportunity to let a low breath escape from between his clenched teeth as he felt the pressure mounting within him. His laboured exhalation ignited a quick gasp and faint, almost silent cry in reaction to the hint his control was slipping, and it was almost cyclical how that sound further stoked him, now, to release a low growl deep in his own throat as he was forced to shift his movements again.

Slow, careful, practiced movements…-!

Then it happened, that sudden inhalation that meant that his movements had triggered something greater. Power flowed through his hot veins, and Seiran felt himself tensing with the sensations that overran him.

Struggling to maintain the slow, controlled pace, Seiran tried to shift his attention back to what—or rather, who—had been aggravating him recently.

Yes, Ensei. He had to go.

He'd sent the man on an errand that morning, and he wasn't due back until very late afternoon, but Seiran knew better than to expect him to actually arrive on time.

A muted sigh, that was quickly interrupted by a hitch of sweet breath, then the panting began.

Slow, careful, practiced- _!_

_(squeeze)_

Seiran's eyes clenched shut a moment as his meditation failed, and he felt all his carefully controlled practice slipping away, his movements increasing in vigour and frequency.

_(a pleading moan)_

He couldn't hold out against that beautiful music.

Her music.

One of his large hands reached out to rub a thumb over a taut rosebud that had been taunting and tempting him mercilessly.

With a gasp, Shuurei's back arched straight up off the bed, and Seiran felt himself grow even harder within her.

Finally free of his distractions, Seiran now turned his attentions over to his responsive Ojou-sama. He would never tire of their rhythm.

Beneath him, Shuurei's breath ghosted across his cheek to his ear, the tender noises she made as he slid in and out of her triggering something almost primal deep within the stoic man and he felt the muscles of his lower back tensing again in anticipation.

Reaching down, he pulled one of her slender legs up around his trim hips, his rough fingertips leaving fire-hot trails along the curve of her side, to settle themselves firmly at the flare of her hip.

At his increased pace, both Shuurei's hands moved from his chest to catch behind the tall man's neck, holding herself to him, pressing her chest to his, kissing him feverishly.

"Yes, Seiran…"

It was punctuated by a throaty moan as her lover lifted her cradling hips higher to meet his and he adjusted their angle in order to penetrate her deeper, eliciting even more erotic sounds from her.

As her cries started to rise in familiar pitch, a wonderful sign she was building towards her peak, Seiran finally allowed himself to break free of his other thoughts completely, the ones that distracted him just enough so he could bring his lady to her climax before his own. He would never make it otherwise, too engrossed was he usually in how good she could make him feel.

With a final prayer of thanks to the gods for keeping Ensei away, finally, long enough for him to thoroughly pleasure his lover, Seiran boosted Shuurei up against the headboard of the bed in a swift movement. He pinned her there, one strong arm holding her in place before driving into her madly with his desperation, his head thrown back and teeth clenched tight; his other forearm and fist were jammed up against the wall beside her head to steady himself as her gasps drove him on, harder and harder with each struggle for breath from her beautiful mouth; each cry ripped from her throat, until she was screaming for him, only him, and her orgasm crested and burst through her, followed quickly by his own.

Their cry of release was loud and passionate and honest, and it carried on the breeze.

Eventually, as their hearts beat hard within them, still racing from adrenaline and lust, silence fell.

Later, the room lay quiet except for their ragged inhalations; they both struggled to catch their breath while they still trembled occasionally with pleasant aftershocks. Their eyes opened, met, and conveyed everything they didn't need to say in words.

Now sated, and still feeling possessive, Seiran lowered his head, his pale hair completely loose from Shuurei's roving fingers earlier on in their encounter, to rest his forehead on her narrow shoulder; Shuurei did the same, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes blatant evidence of her thoroughly satisfied state. He felt her words as he nuzzled the still-rapid pulse at her throat.

"We… we need to get rid of him more often…"

"Agreed."

Long, calloused fingers gradually released their fisted-grip to slip lovingly into Shuurei's long, now-tangled hair. Seiran finger-combed it a few moments as their breaths mixed through a deep, languourous kiss; he cupped the back of her head to bring her closer to deepen the exchange a moment, before reclining Shuurei slightly and laying down with her beneath the sheets. They rustled slightly as they settled around them.

"We haven't heard from Kourin and Eigetsu in a while," she murmured tiredly, sleep already pulling at her as warm arms rested snugly around her middle.

"Mmm…" Seiran wasn't thinking of much of anything at that moment, so grateful was he just to have Shuurei all to himself.

"… We should send them a letter…"  
"Mmm…"

"We should send Ensei with a letter."

"Oh yes, that's a very good idea."

Shuurei chuckled as Seiran squeezed her tight, giving her a few more kisses before they both dozed off.

He loved it when they practiced making love songs.

* * *

"Oy, 'jou-chan! Seiran! I brought back the ... Oy! Where are you? 'jou-chan?... Hello?..."

Ensei scratched his head as he looked around the kitchen.

It was suppertime, wasn't it?

Where was everyone?...

Hadn't Seiran said something about 'jou-chan needing to practice her music?... Maybe she wasn't done practicing yet…

(For the record, Seiran made sure Shuurei got lots and lots of practice.)

* * *

END.

AN: Concrit appreciated, as I'm still learning the ropes with my lemon-writing skills. :)


	7. The Courtesan & her Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seiran x Shuurei. M. SaiMono-verse. Written for the SaiMono Summer Swelter Challenge, 2011. They were in for a long, hard ride that night. And the next. And the one after that...

Title:  **Willing Complication 10: The Courtesan & her Cowboy**  
Category: Anime/Manga » Saiunkoku Monogatari  
Author: moor  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M  
Genre: Romance/Humor  
Published: 09-18-11, Updated: 09-18-11  
Chapters: 1, Words: 5,489

* * *

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

**(Not an official 'request' from the list, but written B/C one of the most common comments I get on my SaiMono fics (regardless of the pairing contained within) is, "More Seiran x Shuurei, please!") xD**

Disclaimer: Saiunkou Monogatari belongs to its proper rights-owners. (I am not one of them).

* * *

Shuurei thrust herself against Seiran, backing him into the wall behind her elaborately carved folding screen. The tall man's back made a muffled bump as it collided with the hard surface, but luckily his head missed the ornate metal sconces hung at regular intervals that brightened the otherwise dark room. Less than half were lit that night, leaving the luxurious chamber cast in a dim, if enchanting, glow.

"Shhhh," she hissed under her breath, covering his mouth with her hand even as she watched the doorway from between the slats of the privacy screen. His breath fanned over her knuckles, and she turned to glance up at him, pleading but firm. "We can't be caught in this room. I'm not allowed to have any men attend me in this room but him; it could reveal my cover if you're here."

"Your report was late," he murmured against her fingers, trying to get her to understand why he'd smuggled himself into her private quarters in the rogue warlord's harem. She'd infiltrated it weeks ago and quickly become a favourite –much to the dismay of the other concubines. It hadn't been easy to keep her cover, investigate the criminal leader's money laundering ring, and dodge the repeated assassination attempts on her life from her fellow seraglio-mates, but she'd managed… though she had been late on a report or two. It seemed the cost of her tardiness had caught up with her, if she was being visited. Mentally sighing, Shuurei could easily guess who the guilty (and overly worried) party was.

But there wasn't time for pleasantries. Heavy footsteps sounded from down the hall and approached in slow, measured beats. Shuurei's anxiety and frustration rose.

"You'll need to hide," she decided aloud. She would never risk Seiran being hurt or caught; not when he'd only done what he did—which, while still troublesome—out of concern (perhaps his own, but mostly those of his penultimate commander). "Whatever you do—whatever you hear, or see," she amended, looking him straight in his eyes meaningfully, with no time to be ashamed, "Do not make a sound."

"My Lady—"

"Shh. Perhaps he'll pass by tonight."

With that, she stepped just far enough away from Seiran to reach over to the folding screen and re-position it so it covered more of Seiran's form, blowing out the sconce that had been burning above his head to remove any trace of his outline or shadow. With that accomplished, Seiran faded to black.

She had just barely finished when the footsteps paused outside her door just long enough to allow the master of the estate to slide the doors open, and shut again behind him.

"Where are you?" The well-dressed man called out, slipping off his outer coat and tossing it onto a settee. "You were to wait for me here—did you not receive the summons?"

Seiran held stock still, though Shuurei could feel the tension rolling off him.

Slipping surreptitiously closer to her first visitor, Shuurei prayed for a miracle. Or at least that Seiran would follow her calm lead. She reached out to take one of his large hands in hers.  _Just don't move, please,_  she begged him with a subtle squeeze.

"I did. I am changing to prepare myself for you," she lied. "What would my lord prefer I wear this evening?"

The lord's footsteps shuffled a bit closer; and Shuurei forced herself to relax. To delay him, she called out, "Or would you like to try something different this evening, my lord?"

The young man halted in his advance and seemed to consider her words. Suspicious of a trick, or possibly even foul play, he waited.

"Explain yourself. Better, show yourself," he commanded.

"I'm sorry, I'm not ready yet—"

"I don't care what you look like, come out here now."

Racking her brain, Shuurei dropped her voice, relying on the oldest trick she knew (learned from one of her earliest mentors).

"… not that kind of ready," she replied in a husky tone.

Nestled against him, body to body, she felt Seiran tense.

* * *

Even as he heard her tone changing, Seiran hadn't thought Shuurei could possibly have meant what she said. He was soon to be proven very, very wrong.

"I wanted to do something special for my lord," she continued, turning her head so she spoke in the direction of her 'master'. "I wanted to warm my lord's… bed… properly, before my lord arrived, to better welcome my lord home. You've been away over a day; I missed my lord taking care of me. Just thinking about my lord made me want to find a way to please you further."

She turned around before Seiran, her back now against his chest, so she could better project her sultry voice towards the rest of the room.

"Have I displeased my lord?"

There was the faintest pause before the man answered, slowly. "No."

"Would my lord like a gift?"

Another pause. "This is what you wanted to surprise me with? What is different?"

Her brow furrowed, and Seiran concluded Shuurei was resigning herself to having to go through with her (admittedly shaky) plan in his presence. Mind made up, she shook her head and took three deliberate steps away from Seiran, and closer to another wall sconce so she was illuminated from behind.

Through the screen, only her outline was visible to the lord.

"I want you to watch me," she explained softly.

Seiran felt his insides tighten. He'd never heard her use that tone before, let alone those words. They were affecting him.

"I want to show you how I thought of my lord, what kinds of things thinking about my lord does to me," she said.

Shuurei moved her fingers to the front of her outermost robe, and nimbly undid the clasps; it shrugged from her shoulders to slide and pool upon the richly carpeted floor.

Seiran swallowed.

Next she released the pins and jewels from her hair, letting it slip down in waves across her shoulders and back.

She ran her hands luxuriously through it, moaning softly to herself in genuine relief.

"That feels so much better."

Seiran struggled hard in his position against the wall to remain comfortable, but the rising tendrils of heat that crept through his body betrayed his more primal reaction. This was a side of Shuurei he'd never witnessed before.

Subtly angling herself to the side, Shuurei made sure the dim lighting emphasized her best features and curves. She pulled loose the ties that held her underclothes together; but instead of falling away, her palms smoothed down over her now fully matured and endowed chest. And back up. And down again, more slowly, sensually, revelling in her own body. Even limned from the dim light from behind her, Shuurei's actions were obvious. As were her physical reactions; Seiran felt a combination of shame and lust stirring as he noticed the twin tight points that had formed on her beautiful mounds, beneath her light tunic. His mouth went dry even as his eyes traced her thumbs' pathway as they circled the swelling nubs.

Under the men's gaze her breathing thickened and came heavier with each stroke; in preparation for such assignments, she had mastered her reactions and learned from one of the best in how to torture a man with pleasure—whether her own or her another's—and teasing was another form of that torment. Not that she was in a position of great power, but she had earned at least a position of great confidence; and through that, instead of influencing the warlord to do as she wanted, she had learned how to get him to open up and confide her. The physical displays and entanglements were more to relax him and put aside his stress when he visited. A feint, if you will.

She tried to focus entirely on him as she went through the slow, meandering exploration of her body before him, and ignored Seiran's presence as best she could. If she focused too much on Seiran, well…

Well…

Unwilling to face the possible meanings behind the flustered and conflicted feelings and thoughts she had with regards to Seiran, Shuurei just thought it best to ignore him. It would be too painful to ruminate on them—and dangerously confusing in that moment. This time had to be all about taking the warlord's mind off any other preoccupations, and putting all his attention on her and what she would do for him, to him. That way, he would be less alert to any other surroundings.

There was no music, but Shuurei moved with rhythm and grace. With practiced elegance, she let her hips sway before she arched her back with a low sigh of want.

If his rigid posture was any indication, the warlord was already in her hands.

He also hadn't moved from his spot on the other side of the screen; he seemed riveted by Shuurei's performance.

* * *

Knowing the man in the room had a harem, Seiran wondered fleetingly if the lord may hold true feelings for Shuurei if he was already so worked up over her. Not that he was discounting her skills, but the man seemed more interested than he'd expected. To have a full harem at his disposal, and yet to be this enraptured… yes, Shuurei had completely won him over. In only a few weeks, she had conquered the criminal the palace had spent months trying to overthrow.

It made Seiran wonder just how adept Shuurei was.

"Continue," the warlord ordered, and Seiran didn't miss the slight hitch to his eager words. His silver brow tightened at the other man's reaction _._

 _He is definitely possessive of her_. It made him angry. No one should view his Lady the way this man did.

The way he himself did.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, then shivered and muffled her voice as she touched a particularly sensitive spot. "I don't want to keep my lord waiting. Please, tell me, may I proceed?"

Seiran swallowed his own groan at her play, while Shuurei's true audience shifted slightly in his stance. Hazarding a glance in the other man's direction, Seiran made out more than he wanted and quickly turned his head away again. As guilty and dirty as it made him feel, he'd much rather watch Shuurei fondle herself than the other man with his hands where they were. And after all, from where he was standing he got to watch her unobstructed—there was no screen that separated the two of them. Had he wanted, he could have reached out to touch her himself—

A spurt of heat spread through his body at the thought, and Seiran quickly reeled in his wayward reactions like a horseman pulling his galloping mount to a skidding halt.

The lord warmed to his more participatory role, and called out, "More. Show me more. What else do you do?" –even as Shuurei's hands slipped inside her flimsy shirt. "Take that off," he ordered tersely.

Doing as she was told, the shift fell next, hanging off Shuurei's hips before sliding down her thighs and to the ground. As she straightened, she ran her hands over her inner legs, and let out a faint moan of her own as her hands brushed past the apex of her thighs.

"I missed you there most of all," she spoke wantonly to the lord. She was just turning to roll her eyes at Seiran as she said it, to convey how much of an act it was—when her eyes widened at the hungry, desperate look in his violet orbs.

* * *

Shuurei's heartbeat thudded in her chest a moment in realization. She knew that look in other men's eyes… but to see it in Seiran's—especially for her—made butterflies explode in her stomach, all giddily aflutter and trying to bat their way out at once.

It distracted her so much she almost broke cover and fumbled—and was only saved by the sudden knocking on the suite's door.

"My lord, there is a guest."

"Tell them to go away, I'll see them later!" cried the lord, his hands still firmly engaged in their business.

"My lord,…" the page continued pleading a few moments longer, and eventually the lord huffed angrily.

"We will continue this when I return," he huffed stiffly to Shuurei as he turned to leave.

"As my lord desires," she replied demurely, her hands slowing to a halt over her lower belly; her voice was hoarse, which could be taken to indicate her wanton state—or, if they truly knew her, like Seiran did, they would realise she was nervous.

The door slid shut with a resounding clack as the irritated man stomped from the room and to see who'd dared to interrupt his evening.

It was silent for a minute. Two.

Three, before Shuurei dared to swallow to try and clear her dry throat. The image of Seiran's eyes flashed in her mind again.

What… what had just happened?

While Seiran had assisted her in past assignments, never had he seen her during an encounter; never so exposed, let alone so 'expressive'. Sure, it was a shock to both of them for him to be so close to her during such an activity; but they'd both understood her position and what it occasionally entailed, when she would work undercover.

But facing it in the company of someone so personally related to her while she was in the throes of her lurid charade was unsettling to the young censor. Seiran was the person she was closest to—her best friend, her protector, her confidante. In a way, she had hoped he would never see this side of her work even while she'd held on tightly to the feeble hope that someday, perhaps things would change between them and he would want to see her differently…

Shuurei's heart thudded hard in her chest, and still she couldn't bring herself to even admit what she truly wanted.

Yet whatever she had wanted, she had not wanted it like this. Not while she performed for another man with Seiran waiting on the sidelines. That cruel turn of events made her hate her position, her role, for a second and it was hard to regain her pride in her career when she wanted to cover herself and hide in a corner, to scream at him to not look at her when she was so vulnerable and exposed like this. For so long she had wanted to grow up and become a mature woman, to serve her country and take pride in her accomplishments. To share those accomplishments with her family and be praised and adored and…

And now, part of that family was sharing the most demeaning conditions of her trade. How could someone who had half raised her be proud of her for this? Shuurei wasn't Seiran's 'Young Lady' anymore.

And while all of this realization hurt, Shuurei was most confused by the look she'd seen in Seiran's eyes a half-second ago, when she'd felt her cheeks flush with the way she'd touched herself in front of him. Never in their time together had he even alluded to having that type of interest in her. To see his reaction to her had stoked her own internal fire and it had almost been like a dream. She had instinctively felt her stomach tightening in anticipation of what it would be like to be with him, and had felt the resulting wetness double under her fingertips. Even now she felt the light throbbing aching for him.

What did that mean?

Deep inside, Shuurei knew that what she was feeling was the shift in their relationship occurring between them. No longer were they strictly retainer and mistress; in that moment, they became man and woman to each other.

And it was the worst possible time for it to happen.

She didn't know what to do about that change between them.

But she knew they couldn't do anything about it right now.

"You should have enough time to make your way out—do you remember the route?" Shuurei asked. She took a step towards him, a hand raised to usher him out—but then seemed to remember her unclothed and aroused state, and paused. She was looking at him, but unable to meet his eyes. Inside, she called herself a coward. That cowardice led her gaze to focus somewhere nearer Seiran's silver-fringed forehead.

Which was how she noticed his brow furrowing in consternation.

"My Lady—"

"You need to leave. Now," she demanded, and this time she did take his sleeve and started tugging him towards one of the passages that ran behind her suite. It was meant for servants, but it would be private enough for him that late at night to deliver him from the risk of detection.

Instead of trailing after her, Seiran took her hand and pulled her gently to a stop.

"No, My Lady, not yet. We need to—"

Determined now, she doggedly kept on. "—if you follow this passage to the end, it will branch off; take the left corridor. Stay to the left until you clear the kitchens, and then take your first left again thereafter. It will lead you outside to the far gardens after twenty or so minutes. Keep close to the walkways, there's enough shrubbery to conceal you, and then leave by the-"

Frustration building at her attempts to redirect his attention, Seiran planted his feet and grabbed Shuurei's shoulders before reaching up to cup her face in his hands.

His eyes bore into hers for a full minute as she gasped and tried to loosen his grip, and then his gaze softened and warmed as she calmed and just stared back at him.

His voice was tender. "Stop. Please."

Her struggles ceasing, Shuurei felt her heart swelling and pressure building behind her eyes.

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I won't," he promised softly, a smile gracing his lips. "I promised an eye-witness report on your current situation. Everything looks fine."

"Why are you still here, then?"

 _Why_ _ **was**_ _he still there,_  he wondered.

"I can't visit My Lady?"

Offended and incensed, heat rose in her cheeks. "Of course not! At least, not here."

"Why not here?"

"Because this is where I…"

Here she tried to look away again—but with Seiran's strong hands cupping her cheeks, she was unable to and left only her eyes to wander to the side.

"My Lady?"

Squirming in his grip, she huffed, "You know why. I'm hardly a 'lady' here," she murmured. "Please don't call me that."

She could read the conflict in Seiran's eyes even when she only caught it from the corner of her own, but had no idea of the just how deeply it ran within him.

"Then… how should I address you?"

Her shoulders slumped in defeated exasperation. "Shuurei! Censor Kou! However it suits you. But I am not 'My Lady' here, at least."

"Then… Shuurei, it is," he said at last; and in her belly Shuurei felt the stronger stirrings of something sweeter and hotter twist together at hearing her name on his lips for the first time that she could remember. She wanted to keep hearing it.

 _Later_ , she promised herself. She could see him in her dreams. For now, they had to work quickly. She needed to tell him goodbye.

"Th-thank you," she raised her hands to put overtop of his, and met his gaze once more. "Thank you for understanding."

"It is novel to say your name," he admitted with a small smile. "It feels more intimate."

This time it was Shuurei who smiled ruefully, and tried to inject some humour into their strange situation. "I stand naked before you in your arms, Seiran, and you find saying my name feels intimate?" she laughed dryly, adding under her breath, "Well, I guess no matter what, I still seem to lack feminine charms. Forgive me, nee-san, I have failed you."

Seiran's hands immediately tightened on her.

"Never," Seiran said suddenly, startling Shuurei with his quiet fervour.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Hm?"

And she hadn't meant to question him or prompt him to continue, but she just hadn't been thinking, or expecting, that he would answer her.

"You lack nothing. You are beautiful, and mature and sensual—and wasted on the warlord you currently investigate. Any man would be blessed to count you as his wife or lover, and all others envious of him. Watching you, I feel-." Seiran's words broke as he pulled himself back in again, aware he was saying too much. He took a breath, closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them.

"I feel you do not give your femininity enough credit. To me, Shuurei, you are a beautiful, desirable woman."

His eyes burned into her with their passionate declaration, and Shuurei felt her breath catch in her throat. Yes, his utter sincerity was reinforcing that shift she had felt earlier. And yes, it was doing incredible things to her insides.

"To you, I'm… really?" she stumbled in her words, her fingers curling over his hands as she gripped him, refusing to let him go. A smile was breaking over her face and the tears that had threatened earlier now resurrected themselves again, but this time with a happier, more relieved cast to them.

His own shoulders relaxing, Seiran nodded once, and his fierce expression softened again.

"A perfect woman,"  _to me_ , he admitted, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. Shuurei let out a long breath as she considered his words. They did bolster her confidence, but…

"You've known me since I was a child, though," she added despondently; she shivered as a chill went through her. She was too exposed, both physically and emotionally. "You're just saying this to make me feel better, aren't you?" She sighed with resignation. "Thank you anyway, Seiran."

Seiran felt his heart lurch in his chest. _Did she truly not realise?..._

Throwing all caution and propriety to the wind, he made his decision.

"Then let me show you," he whispered, and unable to control himself any longer he pressed his lips to hers in a dizzying kiss.

With that, he took her breath away.

The place, the time, the conditions all fell away as their mouths met and their kiss went on; fire coaxed higher in their bellies and bloodstreams, and passion built where surprise and hesitation had once held them back.

As Shuurei joined in the kiss she felt her heart soaring and her fears slipping away as more and more giddy excitement and relief and comfort flowed through her veins. The kiss continued, and soon, their hands joined in, too, and Shuurei wanted nothing more than to feel Seiran's strong, caressing palms on her everywhere.

For Seiran's part, he felt an amazing sense of homecoming, of rightness in the kiss. Hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence, he trailed his hands down Shuurei's sides until they settled on her rear. With a small hoist he aligned her better against him, and ground into her. A low moan of pleasure escaped her lips, sending thrills and shivers through him.

This was how they were supposed to be.

"I've missed you so much, Shuurei," he hoarsely admitted, his voice panting between kisses.

Unable to find the words, Shuurei nearly wept from the emotions overwhelming her. "Oh Seiran."

She wrapped her arms around him in a fierce embrace, and he did the same; they pressed themselves closer until nothing separated them but the thin mesh of Seiran's dark, snug-fitting clothing.

"Come back with me, tonight," he begged. His hands had settled on the flare of her hips and he gazed down at her beseechingly.

"I can't," she fisted his hair in her fingers, her heart and duty diametrically opposed. "I still need to wait to be dismissed."

"Have you gathered the information you needed?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then it is out of your hands. We leave tonight and you will remain removed from this situation, going forward," Seiran growled. "My instructions were to check on your condition and remove you if I felt it best for you."

"You don't think your personal feelings may be clouding your judgement?"

"Not in the least, and yet completely."

With her chest nestled so comfortably against his, Shuurei felt the vibrations of his words travel down his front and against hers, warming her further.

She took a deep breath and considered her options, the consequences and potential scenarios.

It was true—they had nothing left to gain other than minor details, if she were to remain in the seraglio. And her evidence was already en route to the capital. Seiran would be a discreet escort and ensure her safe return better than anyone else, and the two of them travelling together would gather far less attention than a full imperial escort, not to mention swifter.

Plus, after waiting so long, she didn't want to miss a wonderful opportunity when it presented itself.

Reaching up, she planted a quick kiss on Seiran's lips.

"I can be ready in ten minutes. We can be home by daybreak if we hurry."

"Such a rush? You don't want to take your time?"

Shuurei refused to let her blush get the better of her at his insinuation and instead she quirked an eyebrow at Seiran. "Perhaps it will be sooner than daybreak if someone's stamina can keep up."

Seiran's expression warmed—and his smirk hinted at possibilities.

"I promise you the ride of your life, Shuurei."

There was a slight pause between them as Shuurei's eyes darkened, and she felt her legs trembling in anticipation.

"… seven minutes. I can be ready in seven minutes. Maybe five. Give me a hand with this…"

* * *

Four days later they arrived back in Kiyou, much to the supreme concern of their great ruler.

"What happened?" burst out Ryuuki upon hearing of their return.

"Raiders? Bandits? Did they pursue you? And Shuurei, you came back, too! We thought you were due to remain for—oh, We hadn't realised she was asleep. We are so sorry, ani-ue—was it so dangerous as that? Did you need to ride through the night?"

Shifting the delicately wrapped bundle of thoroughly loved Shuurei in his arms, Seiran smiled peacefully at his younger brother.

"We did indeed spend more time in the saddle than we'd expected. I think it wore poor Shuurei out."

Nodding, Ryuuki looked at them with worry in his well-meaning golden eyes. "Yes, she isn't used to that. Take her home and have her rest. We'll order that she not be disturbed until she's recovered. How long do you think she needs? A few days?"

"I believe at least a week would be best. Possibly a fortnight."

Surprised but fully cognizant of the sacrifices Shuurei so often made, Ryuuki yanked at his long hair in exasperation.

"Ah, she does so much sometimes she forgets to enjoy herself and relax. A fortnight of rest at her home, and We best not see her here until the end of her convalescence. Seiran, We task you with ensuring she does not leave her bed until that very last day."

"As your Highness wishes, I am at your command."

"Thank you. Now, go get some rest, ani-ue, you look like you were up all night riding, too."

"It was a worthwhile endeavour, your Highness, and Shuurei ensured it was a pleasant one."

"We are glad to have you both home safe. You are dismissed."

With a nod, the men (Seiran still carrying Shuurei's sleeping form) parted ways, and Ryuuki returned to his meeting with Shuei and Kouyuu.

They were fully engaged in their conference for some time before the young monarch suddenly straightened in his seat with a lurch.

"He called her 'Shuurei'!"

"Who did, your Highness?" asked Shuei.

"Seiran! He called her 'Shuurei' instead of 'My Lady'!"

"And this is relevant to our meeting how?" growled Kouyuu, his fist tightening around his brush. Shuei kept part of his attention on Kouyuu's hand, which gripped the delicate brush like a sword hilt. For a man with no formal military training, some inclination towards violence and weapons seemed to be natural to him.

"It's just… he's never done that, before. We wonder what changed?"

They sat in silence a moment; Ryuuki confused and thoughtful; Kouyuu irritated and suspicious; and Shuei gradually all-knowing.

"How did Shuurei react?" General Ran finally prompted. Yes, it was cruel and wrong, but really, who didn't enjoy riling the Emperor about his puppy-love?

"She was asleep; they rode all night to get back to the capital, and Seiran said she was so worn out she needed at least two weeks to recover."

"And is he the one guaranteeing her return to good health?" asked Kouyuu blithely, catching on to Shuei's lure. "From a trip that normally only takes half a day by horse?"

"Oh yes! It took them four days, can you believe it? The weather and bandits must have been terrible. Shuurei was so wrapped up We couldn't see an inch of her. We made him promise not to let her… leave her bed… before two weeks was up…"

A look of such horror dawned on Ryuuki's face that Kouyuu almost took pity on him.

"Well, we all know how dedicated Seiran is when it comes to the Kou family. I'm sure she'll be back fully relaxed and in fine spirits at that time."

Kouyuu snorted.

Ryuuki levelled his advisors with a glare, and said very evenly, "We hate you both."

"Yes, yes," soothed Shuei. "We know. Now, back to these border troop movements; soldiers don't like to be kept apart from their wives for too long, you know…"

* * *

"… I can't remember what day it is…"

"We still have a week and a half," huffed Seiran.

"All you did was take eight times too long to bring me home. How did you get two weeks off?"

His grin was rakish as he pulled Shuurei up against him, her back pressed firmly against his front, her knees spread wide. The bed sheets were tangled beneath them and Shuurei's nails dug deep into the covers Seiran had spread her across.

She gasped as his hand slid perfectly into place to rub against the bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs.

She loved every minute of it.

"What was that about getting off?" he said hotly against her ear.

"You're distracting me," she growled, tilting her head to look back at him; he countered by thrusting harder and rubbing longer strokes against her slick nub. With another harsh, gasping moan, Shuurei's head fell forward again; her forehead against the bed, she chanced a glance back, between her legs, and was fascinated all over again at the angle he entered and joined with her.

"Is it working?" he asked smoothly. He leaned further forward to kiss her throat openly.

"Ngh—Yes! Yes, don't stop!"

He chuckled and together they continued to find new and interesting ways of pleasuring each other for the next week and a half.

Well, perhaps a bit more than that; Shuurei ended up being a bit late for work that first day back.

But no one could discount the happy glow she had developed.

* * *

(Except Ryuuki.)

"You won't even share details!" he whined to Seiran one night.

Seiran just chuckled. "You can ask her."

The younger man flounced down onto the garden bench, sulking. "How about you get to be Emperor and We'll get the girl?"

"No dice."

"You're such a dick sometimes, Seiran."

Seiran just smirked and patted his younger sibling on the shoulder—as he left to meet Shuurei at home for the night.

He'd rather risk the Emperor's bad humour than his wife's, after all.

* * *

AN: Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
